Edward Nigma, PI
by yeldarb322
Summary: The Riddler, aka Edward Nigma, aka a lot of other names, has turned over a new leaf and is now working on the side of good! Right?
1. Edward Nigma, PI Part 1

Author's note: Will publish new chapters at least once a week. Hopefully.

Edward Nigma, P.I.

He always felt like people were looking at him. They were, of course, but that didn't make him any less paranoid. He was filling out his probation papers before his meeting, and he was running out of space. Not a good sign, as he was only on aliases. _Do I put Nash as my proper name, since it technically is, or do I keep it as Nigma?_ According to all of his identity documentation, it was Nigma, so _I guess it is. It can't be argued against, even if it isn't true. _

There was a lady, mid-twenties with a three-year old running around the waiting room, who was staring intently at his sheet. He didn't look up to catch her, because he knew she was ready for that, and would look away the moment he looked up. The only way he could catch her looking is if he pretended not to notice, which he meant he couldn't catch her, but it was the only was that he could. That fact made him slightly more comfortable. Besides, she would make a reaction of some sort after he wrote down his most famous alias. _Why, you were right. I am that freak you thought I was._

"How are you doing today, Edward?"

"Not bad. Keeping out of trouble."

"No police contact, then?"

"No. Well, yeah, yes. But not really."

"How do you mean?"

"There was, you know how I started up my own private investigation firm?"

"Yeah, how did you get a license for that, by the…"

"Well, I got a call from one of the officers in Major Crimes. I think they want me to be their Hannibal Lector or something."

"They want you to be the villain again?"

"No, not like that. Like in the early parts of those stories, where he helps the feds catch like-minded criminals. Psychologically and all that."

"You do know how those stories end, don't you?"

"They are just stories."

"Do you think that it's a good idea to be working so closely to those involved in the _criminal element _of Gotham?"

"What else can I do? I do have a certain insight on the eccentric side of this city's crime problem. Shouldn't I use my intellect to do good instead of bad? Isn't that the point of all of this rehabilitation?"

"You don't have any ulterior motives? You just want to do good?"

"If I do good, what difference would my motives make?"

"You have unhealthy obsessions, Edward. I read your files from the Asylum psychiatrist. Trying to prove your superiority to him isn't going to do yourself any good."

"And what is he trying to prove? Or the cops? Why does anybody do anything? You ask questions, and I'll answer them. Straight answers. Other than that, I don't need to give you anything."

"Fine, meet again same time next week?"

"Yeah."

"And remember to bring a pay stub."

"No need, just watch the nightly news. They'll be interviewing me on how I caught whoever it will be."

Chapter 2

He bit his lip. _Be polite to security, no matter what. _He knew he was going to be put through the wringer. _Wow, how did you pull that off? Wait, let me think about it first. I bet I can figure it out. _He doubted very much that that would be their reaction. Overall, it took about forty minutes to get through to the main lobby. He'd protest, but he didn't blame them, though he was confused about the ballistics test on his pack of gum. _If I had them looking for a pack of something, they'd probably run right past the gum. A pack of wolves, maybe? Where am I going to get wolves? Would I even need wolves? Should probably get at least a large dog._ He wasn't planning on doing any more crimes, honest. He just wanted to keep his mind sharp, that's all.

"What the hell is he doing in here?" asked detective Sharp. The whole Major Crimes unit stood at attention the second he walked in. As if they could feel his presence. Detective Turgidson immediately began to try and hide all the important boards and papers.

"Please, this isn't my first time inside of this office, officer. But it does look quite nicer in the daylight."

"It's OK, gentlemen." He knew that Gordon was going to be here, but he still felt awkward standing five feet from him and not having a plan to defeat him.

"He's here to help us, and right now we will take all of the help that we can. The Thanksgiving Day Parade is only five days away, and we just heard that they're putting it on national TV for the first time in five years."

"Are they crazy? With all the wackos in this town? They'll be chomping at the bit for this kind of exposure."

"Exactly. And it's up to us to stop them. Now Ridd…Edward, you got any ideas on how _this _type of criminal would try to attack a Thanksgiving Day Parade?"

He could feel heat coming off all the officer's eyes. But he wasn't going to show any apprehension as he walked to a whiteboard.

"Ok, first off, we got to remember who we are not dealing with. Joker's inside, so is Harvey. Scarecrow got caught on Halloween, utterly too predictably, I might add. Ivy's out, and she would love an audience, but, what's the weather supposed to be like Thursday?"

"Low 30's, High 20's."

"Yeah, she doesn't work in the cold. Not a fan. Cross her off. What department store is running this thing?"

"Willman's."

"That takes the Penguin out. He loves their selection. No, I don't think it's going to be anyone we already know. But a new villain, trying to make a name for themselves. They'd have to take the risk."

"So, what do we do?"

"Unless they're complete amateurs who never studied up, they'll go for the grand finale. And that means Santa. Do we know who the Santa is going to be this year?"

"No."

"Find out. Do a background check. Several. Find out everything there is to know about him. Once you do and if he's clean, have police protection following him everywhere he goes. Make absolutely sure you never have an eye off him for one second until he's up on that sled. Don't worry about the marching bands, don't worry about the floats, don't worry about the balloons. The focus must be kept on Santa Claus, understood?"

"One question."

"All ears."

"How do we know it's not going to be you, and this is all part of one of your big, stupid plans?"

"Good point. Keep an eye out for me as well. You can never tell with my types."


	2. Edward Nigma, PI Part 2

Gordon called him into an empty office. The office was 50 feet away, directly on the other side of the main room. All of the officers were staring at him. He had a cane. It's top was shaped like a question mark, although all cane-tops kind of are to begin with. They might think it was an aesthetic prop, but they'd know from a fifty-foot trek. They'd know he couldn't walk right anymore.

Still, it was too interesting to pass up. Edward had to know why Gordon would want to talk to him. Why he'd want his input today. Why he'd let him step near the GCPD in the first place. Luckily, guys like Gordon would just up and tell you all of that with no resistance or tricks. No imagination, these guys.

"Alright Nigma, I'm gonna be blunt. How did you get out of Arkham?"

"Good behavior."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I made a breakthrough. I was declared fit for public life. All of this is on record."

"Who wrote the record?"

"The psychiatrist."

"It wasn't in her handwriting."

"It was typed."

"You know what I mean. A guy with your record doesn't get out that quickly, fit or not."

"What record? Yeah, I committed a lot of crimes, but they were non-violent and ultimately inconsequential."

"For the most part."

_For the most part._

"For the most part_. For the most part._ When you think about it, that phrase _makes no sense._ For the most part what_? For the most part ways?_ Most part. _Most part. What is a part?_

"Eddie?"

_Wait, did I say that aloud? Keep it together. Thinking about it breaks it apart, but we got to keep it together. Gordon's just stressing me, it's just the moment's memory. Keep it together._

"Yeah?"

"I said, how's Harvey doing in there?"

"Harvey? Okay, I guess. His surgery went well, but they had to take out the eye. As it turns out, having an eyelid is crucially important."

"I meant, how is he doing mentally?"

Why did he care so much about Harvey? He was good friends with him back in the day. But after what Harvey did, why…

"Sorry, I have to ask. Why are you allowing me to work with the GCPD? Why would you ever hire me? This isn't exactly like you."

"It is like me, Eddie. I do believe in rehabilitation. I do want to believe that the staff inside of Arkham, who are some of the most educated and well-respected in the world, can change a person. Bring them back to good."

"So you're paying me for me?"

"Do you know why people find you annoying, Eddie? It's because you know the facts but will never say them out loud. I hope you got out of Arkham for the right reason. I pray that such a thing is possible. But one slip up from you and I don't care how powerful the forces are that I have to fight, I will lock you up for good. Do you understand?"

"You know what, Gordon? You should be thanking me for not saying the facts out loud. If I did, You would be ashamed of yourself for hearing them. You are different from the most. For the most part ways."

Edward jumped on the subway with Gordon swimming in his head. _Harvey Dent. He's doing all of this for Harvey Dent. _Harvey was a goner. They had to pump him full of drugs in order to give him life-saving facial surgery. Not drugs to get him through surgery. Drugs to get him on the table. Even after, he refused a glass eye, refused to wear an eye patch. Left the socket exposed, slowly rerotting half of his face. But Gordon won't let himself see that half. Gordon knows that Gotham City needs men like the old Harvey Dent. He's running out of options. The Bat will die soon. We all know it. You can't go around in a costume fighting gun-wielding maniacs forever. He's going to take an unseen bullet at some point, and that will be one less of a few men that could change things in this city. Gordon knows this, and he's getting older and desperate, so he has an illogical hope for lost souls. As for the Bat, _I just hope I get to go to the funeral. I won't even gloat. I'm genuinely going to miss the sadistic bastard. He gave me something to do._

Edward had thinking about all of this for a while now, and he didn't notice his surroundings when he got on the subway. _That's always been a problem for me. To inside of my own head._ He was grabbed by two lunkheads in tuxedos. Not opera types, he thought, so a bad sign.

Placed across from him, Edward wanted to laugh. He wouldn't dare, of course, but it was funny. All the passengers on the car were ushered to a corner so a guy in a bowler and a guy in a top hat could have a discussion in private.

"The Riddler!"

"The Penguin!"

"Congrats on getting out of Arkham so early!"

"Congrats on avoiding Blackgate! Judge Weffner, I presume?"

"The very same. How are you doing?"

"I'm extremely same. You?"

"Eh, worried. I'm worried, Eddie."

"Yeah. I get it. But go on."

"The cops, Eddie. Why?"

"You've been paying off cops for years. I'm getting paid by cops. Which makes more sense?"

"I'm paid by nobody, know why?"

"I bet I can guess exactly how you were going to respond."

"How much?"

"A thousand."

"Deal."

"If you're paid, you're bought."

"I gave you that one."

"When do I get my thousand, Cobblepot?"

"Not when. If."

"If do I get my thousand, Cobblepot?"

"If you get off this subway car alive."

"What do you want?"

"Eh, I'm disappointed in you, Eddie. You were one of the originals. You helped set the standard for crime in this city. Let me tell you a story."

"You're allowed."

"I am short. I am fat. I have been short and fat for my entire life. I knew it. More importantly, my parents knew it. I got caught up in the criminal element, but I wasn't much use. Intelligence can be too easily disregarded in our world. But I was making a living. I wasn't satisfied, but I was surviving. And then a winged creature showed up. The papers loved him. Nobody knew if he was real or a hoax. Guys I knew described him as a flurry of black, peppering them with pain and fear. I have to admit I was scared. Scared to do my business. Fearing the flurry of black. But then the freaks came. The freaks who loved the flurry. They loved the idea of such a creature, a creature like them that they could battle. Freaks like the Joker. Freaks like the Catwoman. Freaks like you. You. You were an inspiration. Can I tell you the truth, Riddler?"

"You can."

"I hate tuxedos. I hate top hats. I hate umbrellas. I'm not even that fond of birds. You know why nobody ever killed Al Capone?"

"Well, he had the money, the muscle and the influence."

"Look at the guy to your left. He's about 6'5, 240 pounds. Holding a semi-automatic. Loaded. Hey, what's your name?"

"John Roberts, sir."

"John Roberts, I am currently holding 400 thousand dollars on my person. If you fling your gun around for five to ten seconds with your finger pressed on the trigger, you would kill everyone on this car and, due to my planning, be able to escape with my and everyone else's money, which will be more than you will make for the next twenty years. Are you going to do that?"

"No sir."

"But you agree that you could?"

"Yes sir."

"But you won't."

"I won't, sir."

"Why not?"

"I…"

"Do you know why no one ever killed Al Capone, Edward?"

"No. Why?"

"Because he was Scarface. He was Scarface. I am the Penguin. You were the Riddler. Never forget who you were."

"I know who I was. I was a joke."

"You were a god. But, I digress. I hear you've become a private detective."

"Yes."

"Well, I may be in need of one. Do you have a card?"

"Um, yeah, here."

….

"You don't have to check it so close, Ozzie. It's just a business card. Name. Address. Email. Phone. No tricks."

"Yeah, well if that's true, which it probably isn't…"

"It is."

"Edward, remember what you'll be remembered for. You are THE Riddler. You are a THE. There's not that many of us. This is my stop. I will see you soon."


	3. Edward Nigma, PI Part 3

"I heard you've been talking to the cops. I heard you've been snooping around here. I was flattered at first, Edward, but now I'm beginning to see the dangers involved. So, I think we should have a little talk."

Edward had been looking into the Thanksgiving day parade case, even though there was no actual case at that particular moment. In Gotham, you see, it is safer to make cases before they actually exist, safer and more reasonable that way. Anyway, he was looking at the floats, the bands, and the 4-H clubs. Mainly he was looking at Santa Claus. Neil Reinsford. Mid-60's, Caucasian, in good health, just a little bit doughy, had a naturally growing white beard. Worked as a department store Santa for the past 14 years, and has a small business selling furniture at discount prices, a business that he took over from his father-in-law 27 years ago. Is doing reasonably well, considering the market. In short, boring as shit.

"He's just a nice old guy," said Officer Montoya, one of the few…the only GCPD that's willing to speak to me in complete sentences. "He tells dumb jokes to his police surveillance."

"Like what?"

"Like, 'hey, you guys are supposed to be protecting me, right? So where were you when my insurance guy blah blah blah' you know? He's harmless."

"And the police surveillance?"

"Has surveillance on them. One cop rubs his nose at a guy, we got the whole department jammed down his throat, in a manner of speaking. We know what we are doing, to an extent."

"To an extent?"

"Bought cops. You got any names?"

"That would be awfully unprofessional of me, to rat someone out. Also, I don't know anybody like that. Besides, you guys already have all the information you can have about me. Next thing you know, you'll be analyzing my grocery list. Some of you people can be so touchy."

"Which is some?"

"Some is awfully unprofessional. It's 'Which would be some?' Or, no, Yeah, another round of shots."

"You don't have to call it a round when there's only two people at the table."

"Let off, do you know how risky it is to bring a cop to a bar like this. My reputation is…sullied. Or something."

"You're drunk. I'm leaving."

"Wait, you know that there is a cop you can't trust. At least I think you know it. A case, a punishment that felt a little off, but you don't have enough to prove it. Do you have that inkling? If not, I need another drinking buddy."

"And I can trust someone who is keeping information from a police officer?"

"That same someone got out of Arkham easily, legally, for reasons no one really understands. Is someone really afraid of a little future perjury?"

"Well, I know that someone wasn't cured."

"Riddles are interesting, Montoya. They make you pay attention to everything a person says. If anything, I just want a partner who listens to me."

"Cute. I'm gone."

Jiffy

Sara Lee

Oscar Meyer

A Morton

Duracell

Hormel

Johnson and Johnson

Kraft

Ben and Jerry's

Hefty

When he thinks about it now, maybe Eddie should have told Montoya about the crooked cop. _The long game, _he thought, _prepare for the long game. _There might not be a long game, what with him tied to a chair and all. This man meant business. Set up a crime that only a truly deranged and brilliant mind could. He could feel the intensity emanating from the man's body. The stillness of his eyes sent a shiver down Edward's spine. The only question, the only riddle that was left, who the hell was this guy?

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Julian Day. But you may call me the Calendar Man!"

"Ha!"

Edward got smacked across the temple with a baseball bat, but considering his former opponent, the callouses around his temple had formed into a sort of biological helmet, so he kept consciousness.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's nice to meet you. I'm guessing you're a holiday-themed super-villain or something?"

"Well, I don't do crimes on May 14th, if that's what you mean."

"You should, though. I mean, there has to be an atrocity that has happened on every day of the year. History has been around for a long time, but you do what you want to do. I don't want to micro-manage."

"How did you know about my man on the inside?"

"Because he was my man on the inside. There's only so many men, you know?"

"He was your man. But he gave you to me."

"He'll go down soon. I sent an officer on him. He made a mistake on one of the crimes he reported in. My officer will bring him down, and your guy will bring you down."

"And you told your officer which crime he reported wrong?"

"In so many words."

"Meaning?"

"I didn't tell her at all."

"Oh?"

"But she'll figure it out. I hope."

"Good for her. She's got til Christmas after all. So do you."

"How's that?"

"I know you, Riddler. I've studied you. On the last Thursday of November I'm gonna be dressed up as Santa Claus, and I'll tell the whole world that I've got something planned for Christmas, and they'll all be bundled up in fear, but a few will try to figure out what, and stop me at the last second. You will be one of them, He will be another. And you will want to be the one who figures it out first. To be hailed as the one smart enough to thwart me. Or, you could go to the police station. It's seven blocks away from here. File a kidnapping report. My real name is David Richards. I'll be at this location for the next two weeks. The parade is on television, channel 4, 8 am to noon. The ropes are cut Riddler, your choice."


End file.
